


It's funny (because it's true)

by itried



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Depression, M/M, This is very depressing, and it scares their friends, and they help each other, but joking about it kinda helps them deal, emotional headcanons, everyone is alive and they'll stayalive and live forever, no one takes any baths, stan and richie are depressed as fuck and they joke about it all the time, there are suicidal thoughts in this but no one acts on them, they're not okay but they'll be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 08:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13185927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itried/pseuds/itried
Summary: It gets harder after Neibolt and Pennywise. Everything does: talking and joking take a lot more effort than it did before. Getting out of the bed takes longer because now he needs to spend a great deal of time psyching himself up to do it. Caring is hard too, it's like all of his emotions were sucked out of him and all that's left is that horrible sense of nothing. Stan doesn't care about school anymore, or doing his homework, he doesn't care about making his father proud, but at the same time, he avoids making him mad because he doesn't care enough to argue with him. Even now, he's hanging out with his friends at the quarry, he looks at his bird book, reading all the description and inspecting the drawings, and all he can think of is: "remember when i used to enjoy things?" He laughs at that. It's not funny, not really, but he can't help it.





	It's funny (because it's true)

It gets harder after Neibolt and Pennywise. Everything does: talking and joking take a lot more effort than it did before. Getting out of the bed takes longer because now he needs to spend a great deal of time psyching himself up to do it. Caring is hard too, it's like all of his emotions were sucked out of him and all that's left is that horrible sense of nothing. Stan doesn't care about school anymore, or doing his homework, he doesn't care about making his father proud, but at the same time, he avoids making him mad because he doesn't care enough to argue with him. Even now, he's hanging out with his friends at the quarry, he looks at his bird book, reading all the description and inspecting the drawings, and all he can think of is: "remember when i used to enjoy things?" He laughs at that. It's not funny, not really, but he can't help it.

His friends look at him, and he realises he said it out loud. He regrets it immediately, not because it's not true ( _it is_ ), but because he just gave his friends another reason to worry about him. They're all so very concerned, it's funny. It's funny because it's another thing for Stan to fail at. He can't even comfort his friends right, instead he worries the fuck out of them with self depreciative, bordering on suicidal jokes.

He was diagnosed with depression a few months ago. He's been seeing a therapist ever since, but she can't help when he can't really talk to her about what happened. The antidepressants help a little though, and so do these jokes.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bill asks, carefully and, god, Stan hates that he asks even though he knows that Stan isn't okay. Well, to be truthful, neither of them are, but Stan is the only one who's not pretending to be.

Still, Stan thinks about lying ( _sure, I'm okay, everything's great, almost dying was fun, I don't have nightmares of It returning or anything_ ) he thinks about telling the truth  _(I'm not scared of dying anymore, and that scares the hell out of me_ ), he thinks about only shrugging and answering with a " _lol_ ," but he does neither, because somehow, deep down, he still cares that none of these answers are what Bill and the others want to hear right now. He knows that their friends all want him to be okay, but he isn't and he doesn't think he can ever be. He tried to be okay, he tried so hard, but he can't, he just can't and he doesn't want to disappoint them once more after all they've been through. He cares and it's exhausting. So he excuses himself and runs away. He only slows down when he reaches his house, but he doesn't go in, he passes it, goes into the nearest alley, sits down at the floor and tries to calm his breathing.

He can't do this. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He just wants to... "God, I want to die." He admits and it surprises him how easy it is.

"Bitch, me too, the fuck?" He hears someone says, and turns around to find Richie, parking his bike at the beginning of the alley, having followed him all the way from the quarry. His voice is louder than he probably intended to.

Stan can't help it, he snorts. He laughs, and he laughs so much it begins to hurt, but he keeps on laughing. Richie sits by his side, fingers interwining with his best friend's and he's laughing too.

"I know I shouldn't, but I'm kinda relieved?" The laughter dies down, but Richie's still giggling. "Everybody is so keen on moving the fuck on, but I just... I don't think I can move on, hell, sometimes I can barely move, I just want it all to stop, for a second."

Stan nods and lets Richie continue. Richie has always been good at talking.

"I thought that there was something wrong with me, for not getting over it, for still having nightmares, for..." He swallows whatever he was going to say, but Stan still nods at him, because he  _knows_. "But apparently you're also falling apart and I'm glad... I mean, I'm not glad you're falling apart, I'm just..."

"I hate that this is happening to you." He hates that he didn't even notice that Richie was suffering like this, but now that he's thinking about it, it's as clear as day. He remembers Richie getting really quiet and then really loud, as if to overcompensate it. He remembers seeing his hands shaking as he grew anxious more often. "Hell, I hate that this is happening to me, but it is, and I'm just glad that we don't need to go through this alone." Stan finishes for him, because he does know, because he's finally feeling something other than this stupid apathy that has been ruling all his days, and it's definitely  _relief_.

Richie closes his eyes and throws his head back. "God, we're so stupid, we've been going through the same stuff this whole time, but we never talked about it, not even once."

"Me? Talking about my feelings like an adult? Unrealistic." Stan shrugs.

"Healthy coping mechanisms?" Richie smiles and turns to him. "I don't know her."

Stan shifts and gets closer to him, before he can even realize what he's doing.

"I didn't even cry about it yet." Richie whispers. "I mean, I want to, but I... I just feel so empty..."

"We're so fucked up, we can't even do depression right." Stan breathes out. "Here we are, talking about how much we want to die, and we're laughing."

"Well, it's funny because it's true." Richie shrugs.

"It is." Richie's hands are shaking, so Stan holds them. They hold hands for a long time in that dark alley where no one can see them, they keep holding hands when they get up and head for Stan's, and they keep holding hands as they go up the stairs to his bedroom. They lay down on Stan's bed, and it's so tiny it's hard to keep holding hands, so Richie lets him go. Stan has a moment to feel disappointed, but then Richie is holding him, hugging him tight.

It's nothing like when the other losers hug him. Stan always feels like he has to control himself when he's around the others. He can't let them know how he's feeling. He can't be a bummer, he can't be a burden. But now that he knows Richie understands what he's going through, he allows himself to have this. Stan holds him back, resting his forehead against Richie's, it's all so tentative it's so new, and so so good, Stan is in completely in awe. But the most surprising thing is what he does next. He cries.

Richie holds him harder, but he doesn't say it's okay (because it's not), he doesn't say it's going to be okay (because how the hell would he know), instead he says "I'm here."

And he is here, holding his best friend like his life depends on it, he is here, kissing the top of Stan's head and playing with his curls. He is here, despite feeling just as awful, and desperate and scared. He is here and Stan is not alone.

"I'm here too." Stan tries because it's the only thing he can offer. If Richie's there for him, he needs to be there for Richie in return, it's only fair. He still wants to die, but maybe if he doesn't try to, if he just holds Richie's hands and stays, it will be enough. Richie smiles at him, it's reluctant and small, but it is enough.

It takes a while, but they eventually fall asleep, and miraculously they don't have any nightmares. Stan dreams Richie convinces him to let him make lunch, but then they blow up the kitchen trying to make sandwiches.

Richie laughs the next morning when he tells him the dream. They both do because this is actually funny.  Also a very real possibility, so they call in the losers to help them. They use the dream as an excuse to not do anything while everyone else works, they sit side by side, holding hands and avoiding their friends worried glances.

This is still not okay, they are not okay, but, somehow, this is... Better. They're getting better.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr and feel free to send me prompts! I'm notagoodplace4gods.


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